


Welcome to Santas World, A Wincest Addition

by o0kaymawn0o



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AND DEAN DRESSED AS HOT SANTA IS JUST, Anal Sex, BECAUSE SAM IN A TINSEL JOCKSTRAP IS JUST, BUT I WANTED TO WRITE ONE, Bottom Sam, Brother/Brother Incest, Brothers, Christmas, Christmas Dirty Talk, Christmas one shot, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Horny Brothers, I KNOW IT'S EARLY, Jock Straps, KJJFJKEHFLIAFHOAFHOEAIHFU, Kissing, M/M, SHWSLIFHLIFHAELIFHAELIFHAFEH, Sensual Sex, Slash, Top Dean, Touching, YOU GET WHAT I MEAN!!!!, hot Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:38:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0kaymawn0o/pseuds/o0kaymawn0o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants to celebrate Christmas this year. He's managed to keep Dean busy with a list of items that Sam doesn't even need. He's decked the Bunker out, made a jock-strap out of tinsel, and added the last touches to the tree. Now he just has to wait for Dean to get back. Sam's in for a surprise of his own, though. </p>
<p>'“Sammy,” Dean breathes huskily, lips inches from touching Sam’s left ear. “It’s not even Christmas yet,” he reminds him, clearly on board with this venture, however wanting to know what brought this on. </p>
<p>Sam thrusts his ass back against Dean’s crotch, bringing his arm up and around Dean’s neck, locking eyes with the older man over his shoulder. “Who knows when we might have the time to celebrate, Dean? I figured I’d make Christmas come early this year,” Sam answers, thoroughly pleased with the shameless arousal in Dean’s eyes, reflecting his own. Sam has had time to prepare for this, after all. Whereas Dean got thrown in at the deep end. '</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Santas World, A Wincest Addition

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS MY CHRISTMAS PRESENT TO MY READERS!!!! 
> 
> I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT!! :D

Sam frowns thoughtfully, tilting the cracker-like decoration just-so, in order to align it with the rest situated on the tree. Stepping back, Sam marvels his efforts, a pleased smile forming on his face. It won’t be too long now before Dean returns from his hunt for the gargantuan list of items that Sam tasked his brother with locating for him. Sam had used the fact that Dean just can’t say no to him to his advantage, granting Sam the time needed in order to decorate the bunker.

In Sam’s opinion, he’s done a great job of it all. None of this would have been possible with Dean floating around the place, as he has a tendency to mock the very thought of celebrating the holidays, constantly reminding Sam that there is just no room for it in the lives that they live. Which, is true. Or, it had been. Now that they actually have a place that they can call their own, though, Sam is not going to allow another year to slip by without getting involved in the festivities.

Deck the halls with bells of holly indeed. Sam shares a smug moment with himself, admiring the many lines of flashing lights, tinsel strewn in every area appropriate, ornaments scattered all around. Sam really did go all out. He’s honestly not sure how he had managed to slip it all past Dean’s notice. Then again, leave the guy with enough skin mags, and it’s not really that hard to distract him.

Sam flushes all over, staring down at the one thing covering any of his dignity. He wasn’t sure what colour to go with at the time. Purple hadn’t been the right fit. Yellow would just get him laughed at. Pink would give Dean enough ribbing material to last a lifetime. In the end, Sam decided between red or green, the traditional Christmas colours, eventually opting for green, as red felt like it wouldn’t be sending the right message.

When he embarked on this endeavour, Sam hadn’t taken in to account how itchy it would be. It’s not a makeshift one that he bought at the store. It’s a ‘jock strap’ that he fashioned out of tinsel. It fits perfectly, and it’s tight enough to give the desired effect he had been aiming for, which he is sure Dean will salivate over as soon as he takes it all in.

This is Dean’s Christmas present.

Well, Sam is Dean’s Christmas present.

Once before, Dean admitted to his younger brother that naked Sam trumps boobs. Sam had been overly flattered by the crassness, and purposefully strutted around naked when he had the time, driving Dean nuts with each stretch of his limbs, pushing until Dean eventually snapped and bent him over the nearest surface. Sam would like to think that he has more control on his sexual urges than Dean, but he’s just as insatiable when it all comes down to it. He’ll never admit such a thing, but that’s neither here nor there.

Sam senses the key going into the lock, quickly getting himself in to position, not exactly sure how to stand in this moment, so he dregs up male-modelling poses that he witnessed in a few magazines, hunching his shoulders forward, hooking his thumbs in the tinsel at his sides, and sliding one foot forward to give his look that _edge_. Adding some vulnerability to the look, Sam secures his best puppy dog eyes, and waits for Dean to get here.

“Sammy? I don’t know why you needed all this crap, but I managed to find it all. Can you believe that I had to drive to four different stores just to find the type of Mustard you wanted? I didn’t even think you liked that anymore,” Dean explains, not even bothering to look Sam’s way as he starts unloading bags on top of the kitchen counters, idly listing off his reservations to Sam’s sudden interest in vegan delicacies.

Eventually, Dean walks out of the kitchen to look for Sam, as he hasn’t gotten a response yet. When he turns his head and spots Sam standing in front of an impressively decorated and rather lengthy tree, his jaw nearly drops to the floor.

Mouth going dry, Dean drags his tongue over his lips, eyes raking all over Sam’s naked form, barring the fashioned jock-strap that Dean is _all_ for. It barely conceals Sam’s low-hanging fruit, but Dean doesn’t have a problem with that. Without saying anything, Dean makes a twirling motion with his finger. Sam understands immediately, turning on his heel to show his back to his brother, feeling those dark green eyes smoothly raking down his body, settling on his ass, sharp intake of breath nearly crumbling Sam’s composure. He stomps down the smug smirk that wants to make its appearance, enjoying the low growl emanating behind him. He’s about to ask Dean what he thinks of his present, when Dean is suddenly pressed up against his back, hungry hands settling on his butt-cheeks, groping the taught flesh with need.

“Sammy,” Dean breathes huskily, lips inches from touching Sam’s left ear. “It’s not even Christmas yet,” he reminds him, clearly on board with this venture, however wanting to know what brought this on.

Sam thrusts his ass back against Dean’s crotch, bringing his arm up and around Dean’s neck, locking eyes with the older man over his shoulder. “Who knows when we might have the time to celebrate, Dean? I figured I’d make Christmas come early this year,” Sam answers, thoroughly pleased with the shameless arousal in Dean’s eyes, reflecting his own. Sam has had time to prepare for this, after all. Whereas Dean got thrown in at the deep end.

Dean grins cheekily, hooking his finger in the _strap_ of the tinsel, stroking Sam’s hipbone leisurely, sealing his lips over the pulse point on Sam’s neck. Sam shudders at the contact, arousal spiking with each second that passes. He’s not upset that Dean didn’t take more time to evaluate the state of the bunker. If he had wanted that to happen first, he would have revealed his _outfit_ later.

“I have a surprise for you, too,” Dean purrs, taking hold of Sam’s hardening cock, lazily sliding his fist up and down its length. “Stay right here,” he instructs, and Sam nearly growls at the loss of Dean’s body pressed against his own.

He hears Dean _run_ up the stairs. Dean doesn’t run unless it’s away from something that can kill him, so he must be _very_ eager to get back to Sam. He gives himself a mental pat on the back, allowing a smile to stretch his lips with satisfaction. To be fair, he had no doubts that Dean would be all over him when he laid eyes on Sam’s _present_ to him, but Sam’s always had insecurities when it comes to Dean. Yes, Dean does his best to beat all of them down, constantly reminding Sam of the reasons that there is no one else but Sam, and no one will ever be good enough. Nevertheless, when you’re in love with someone, it’s hard not to feel like you could be doing more for the relationship.

Sam registers footsteps coming to a halt behind him, anticipation building in his stomach. Dean grants him the go-ahead to turn back around, and Sam’s breath leaves him all at once. Sam has no idea how Dean clocked on to one of Sam’s deepest fantasies around the time of the holidays—hell, this may have just been an impulse buy. Not that the details matter to Sam. All that matters is that Dean is standing there, looking like the hottest Santa Claus to ever walk the planet. Apart from red suspenders, Dean’s chest and stomach are exposed, making Sam’s mouth water. Dean’s not as toned as Sam is—he actually has a little bit of pudge when he crouches down, or performs any action that will crease up his stomach. Normally, Dean gets embarrassed about it, always waiting until the last minute to remove his t-shirt. To anyone else, Dean is this cocky, vain son of a bitch. Sam knows that it’s not true, though. He’s been through those times that Dean doubts himself, lifting his shirt in the mirror and glaring at his form—putting in more sits ups and press ups to try and regain those abs that he had when he had been younger. Sam always tries to tell him in ways that don’t sound patronizing that he looks great the way he is—and he does. Dean’s not fat. There’s not a swell to his stomach. Even if he was, Sam wouldn’t care. He loves Dean, and nothing will ever change that.

Sam guides his eyes back up Dean’s body, stopping at the top, revealing the Santa’s hat placed on top of his head, completing the look. Dean even went as far as to get the belt buckle to go along with the red slacks, and Sam is having a lot of trouble standing still in his place.

“Sexy Santa, Sammy. What do ya’ think?” Dean questions with a shit-eating grin.

“Hottest Santa there is, Dean,” Sam admits shamelessly, stalking over to his brother, Dean’s eyes tracking every movement with renewed hunger. Sam spots the flicker of doubt in Dean’s composure. He quickly drops to his knees and peppers kisses over Dean’s belly, mapping his hands up Dean’s body. “You look stunning, Dean—“

“Probably not the six pack you were hoping for—“

“Don’t do that,” Sam admonishes, biting the strip of skin just above Dean’s navel. “Abercrombie models have got _nothing_ on you, Dean.”

“Sam—“

“No, Dean. You’re nearly forty. The same is going to happen to me one day, all right? When it does, are you gonna be any less attracted to me?”

Dean frowns at the very idea of that. “Of course not. I’ll still wake up every day, and not be able to help myself from touching you all over.”

Sam grins. “Well, there you go. You’re hot. You’re always gonna be hot, so shut up and kiss me.”

Without needing to say anything more, Dean cups Sam’s chin, gently guiding him up until their mouths can meet. Their lips immediately part, equally allowing the other to delve their tongues inside, tasting one another, hands groping every bit of skin that they can as the kiss turns heated. Sam’s head moves back with the force of Dean’s mouth pressing against his own, breaths mingling in the small space of air between them. Sam attacks back with a roll of his tongue, enjoying the throaty groan that it earns.

They break apart, sucking in large gulps of air.

Dean runs a hand through Sam’s soft, long brown hair, flexing his fingers against Sam’s scalp, eyes locked in the centre. “Insecurities aside, I really want to fuck you.”

Sam chuckles. “That’s what I was aiming for with this Christmas extravaganza.”

“Mhm. Let’s see how much that tinsel can take before it gives out,” Dean suggests, walking Sam backwards until they reach the couch. He spins Sam around, prompting him with a pat on the ass to move to all fours. Sam does so without protest, arching his back and pushing his ass out as far as it will go.

Dean hums his agreement, smoothing his palm over each globe, alternating a few times before swatting each cheek playfully. “Santa is very pleased with your efforts, Samuel, and he is going to reward with his cane of Christmas spirit.”

Sam rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself. “I humbly accept your reward Santa, and I’ll make sure to please you in time for next year.”

Dean literally _ho ho ho’s_ at that, pulling down the zipper on his trousers, taking out his cock and rubbing the tip over Sam’s entrance. Sam lubed up earlier, so he could avoid the foreplay. “Santa has no doubts that you will please him in time for next Christmas, Samuel, for you are a very good boy.”

“I’ll always do my best to stay on the nice list, Santa. I would hate to disappoint you,” Sam replies timidly, keeping up the act, grinding his ass back on Dean’s cock.

Dean thrusts between Sam’s butt-cheeks, leaking pre-come onto the small of Sam’s back. “You’re a good man, with a big heart, Samuel Winchester. As long as you stay true to your heart, Santa will always be there to reward you for your efforts,” Dean intones, bending down to suck a mark on the nape of Sam’s neck, lining up his cock and breaching the outer ring.

“Oh, Santa, I will never falter in my belief of spreading the Christmas joy,” Sam replies, using one hand to stretch his skin, so Dean can get an eyeful of his cock disappearing into Sam’s body. The horny bastard has always gotten a kick out of that.

“Careful not to eat too many candy canes, my boy, or you’ll have to take a visit to the dentist,” Dean mutters, bottoming out, finding it increasingly more difficult to keep up the charade, when all he wants to do is hang on to the _straps_ of tinsel and pound Sam in to the couch.

Sam makes this his last remark, as he too has reach his limit. “Don’t worry, Santa. I only eat one every year.”

Dean pats Sam on the ass appreciatively, secures his hands around the green teasers, and pulls out until just the head of his cock is catching on the rim. Without warning, he thrusts back in, locating Sam’s prostate with ease, due to the familiarity of the act, punching a bitten off moan out of his younger brother’s mouth, which soon turns in to a litany of his name, spurring on Dean’s pace.

It’s not long before there’s a choir of skin slapping skin permeating the room, grunts and groans layering the altos, high-pitched keens dominating the sopranos in motion. Dean pulls Sam back onto each thrust, sliding his cock as far as it will go in Sam’s body, revelling in the constant flutter of Sam’s muscles around his cock.

“Holy shit, Sam. If you could see what I see. . .,” Dean trails off, breaths coming in short bursts as sweat layers his skin in a translucent sheen, hips rolling in tandem with Sam’s efforts to push back with all he’s got.

They both know that they’re reaching their end for this session. This is only the beginning of the night, though, and Dean very much plans to have Sam in all kinds of positions before the end of the night.

“Come on, Santa—give me your Christmas spirit!” Sam growls, white-knuckling the cushions, gritting his teeth as Dean slams brutally against his G-Spot, almost rendering him speechless.

“Don’t worry, Samuel. Not much longer, my dear boy,” Dean promises, locking his arms around Sam’s waist, slowing his thrust, simply grinding his cock inside Sam’s body, teasing the gland for all its worth, rubbing the sensitive head of his cock along Sam’s walls.

Sam curses, bearing down on Dean’s cock as he soils the cushions beneath him, head falling as he senses Dean pulsing inside him, filling up his walls with his come.

They both pant for breath as they come down from their highs, neither one of them ready to move yet.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Sam eventually gets out, blowing out a quick breath.

Dean nuzzles Sam’s nape with his nose, rolling his tongue over a stretch of skin. “And a happy fucking new year, Sam.”

 

 


End file.
